On The Run
by morebones
Summary: Revenge from an old enemy forces Brennan to take a path she never thought she'd be able to consider. Pure speculation about the Season Finale. Spoilers, of course, but we know so little...


_**A/N:** I haven't written Bones in a while, I just couldn't. But it's thrilling & satisfying again, so here I am. I think that watching my sister *adoring* this season (she literally melts each episode) has helped me to ease the sort of hard feelings I sheltered against TPTB for having skipped the beginnings of B&B's romantic relationship. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE where we are; I LOVE Christine and B&B being parents; I LOVE the absolute certainty that B&B are together for the long haul, that they're just beyond good and evil, no matter what. It's just that I would've wanted more. That's what happens when you love something too much; you just want it all, don't you?_

_Anyway. This is speculation about the **SF**. There are of course, **spoilers** (the few we've had). If you find mistakes, typos or some expression that doesn't sound quite like it should, blame me and my absolute inability to find a beta that is not hyper busy with exams or stuff. Just don't be too cruel to me, I do what I can. I have exams as well..._

Disclaimer_: Do I really have to say it? Ok. We all know they're not mine._

* * *

**.**

**On The Run**

**.**

Brennan had just dozed off for a few moments, overcome by tiredness after the unpredictable and devastating happenings of the day, the past days, to be accurate . Now, she wakes up confused, in an unfamiliar room, her mind in a blur.

Her head is throbbing and she can follow mentally each of the muscles of her neck and back by simply focusing on the aching on them. Her usually sharp senses and quick synapsis are having difficulties to function at full capacity and it takes her an instant to adjust to the novelty of the circumstances, of the place.

She runs her eyes all through the old, antiquated room and her heart skips a beat and feels like squeezed painfully as she realizes where she is (why she is here), the pressure on her chest coming back unbidden.

From her place on the patched armchair by the window she can control the parking area and the main entrance. She'd arranged it to be able to see as well the door and the bed, which is occupied by the sleeping form of her traveling travel companion. A large bag lies half zipped in front of the nightstand, beside the bed; clothes are still packed inside, sign of the uncertainty of the odd situation she's in now.

But the situation is not _that_ new, she thinks dryly, a deep sadness covering her eyes. She'd laugh at the irony of all it if it weren't for the utter fear she feels inside. Fear for her, she won't deny it, but mostly for her loved ones, especially for her little girl. What life will she live would this situation persist? She silently wonders if she could be allowed to ask from Booth's God for it not to happen. For all this absurdity to come to an end soon.

She is doing the very same thing she had hated her parents for, the same thing that made her the somber lonely teenager, the complicated adult, the impervious entity that had only evolved when some unpredicted variable was introduced into her life in the form of her partner (her love) and taught her to open, to accept she was made for the real world.

So much suffering, so much pain. And it all had started like this.

Only, the other way around.

* * *

The motel room is clean and has some amenities, but that's all she can say. She won't complain about it, as she's been in worse places. So much worse, she admits to herself, as she reminisces of the simple tents on the desert or the nights spent under only a wrap on the rain forest, or the rudimentary shelters where she stayed in several places in South Asia.

But she'd never been hiding like this then. It's true that during her times on places like Guatemala, or Colombia or, more recently, Indonesia, she had to escape from the guerrillas and the cartels; at times, she also had to hide from the established government people, like when on Northern China or Korea. Sometimes she even witnessed a government change or was caught up in the middle of a civil war, like while she visited some African regions.

But she is now in her country, a place where she was supposed to be protected from any of those terrible things. It's her home, where she's got her family.

She can't understand how things could go down so soon. How everything was perfect one minute and the next, there was chaos. How Justice didn't work. How, when things were so good and she was happy, content, relaxed, satisfied, safe… whole for the first time in her life, everything just came crumbling down.

It had all happened so fast she didn't see it coming. Booth and her father had, though. And, to some extent, also her friends. Caroline had been worried, as well, dropping hints to Booth to try to protect her, hints to which she had been totally clueless.

Maybe it was that she was too self-confident, maybe even arrogant, trusting her vast knowledge and her superlative skills, thinking that she could find the clues to uncover the real killer of her old friend, and Pelant, with his cruel Machiavellian mind, had taken that to his vantage. He knew she was stubborn enough to keep investigating despite the threats, so he had prepared it all faultlessly, like a mechanical puzzle trap, and the deeper she got in the case - the more she uncovered -, the worse it looked for her.

She'd found herself all of sudden in the middle of everything, in the eye of an senseless storm, and when she stopped and looked at the bigger picture, she realized she was up to her neck in mud, metaphorically speaking.

* * *

She should've predicted it. It's not as if it had been her first case or her first psychopath or sociopath. It's not even as if the strategy used by him was unbeknownst to her. But when she'd stepped back, it was almost too late.

Her people were protecting her, but that wasn't enough. They never doubted her innocence, despite the facts. Not even Caroline, with her tough façade and the memories of that case in New Orleans so many years ago. The evidences were all pointing towards her almost unquestionably, but they were not for a second unconvinced of the lack of participation of (her colleague, her boss) her friend on the attack of yet another friend of hers. She is extremely grateful for the trust, the blind friendship (not blind trust, because they all have abundant proof that she's one to trust), but she's also worried for them, for what can be seen as complicity.

If it's discovered that they are still working so that they can clean her name and question that theoretically unquestionable proof that went against her, their jobs would be in real danger. And that's something she doesn't want for them. Not on her.

She remembers now, bitterly, how she had laughed uncomfortably the first time Max had joked about it, being a fugitive, the pain of his absence still fresh, somehow, on her brain (her heart). But she was still oblivious to the depth of the problem then. She'd dismissed it equally fast when Angela had suggested it as a real possibility and just scolded Booth when he had insinuated it.

But then, it hit her.

She comes from a criminal family, she has a dark past on foster care; she was accused (although she had not been convicted) at least once; she was a person of interest and the only other likely suspect on the murder of a deputy director of the FBI. She's got a weapons license, a gun, and is an expert on several martial arts. Not only she is an expert in death and killing, she also has links with criminals.

All that would make her look bad before a jury, and with all the evidence she and her team had gathered, unless some twist allowed everything to crumble down, she'd be convicted. She'd go to jail for a crime that she didn't commit, while the real murderer would remain out there, laughing at her.

But that wasn't the worst of it, because Pelant, the bastard, wasn't content with harming her professional life, with destroying her credibility and taking her off of the investigation so that it were more difficult to find a way out; he had taken it to a personal level.

He had broken into their house, the place that she considered sacred. Sacred, because if some place deserves that appellative is precisely where the family, a family bind by love like hers, lies.

She can stand being attacked herself. Have her life on the line of fire. Be questioned on her ethics, on her beliefs, even on her methods. She can bear anything if that implies that her family is safe. But he had compromised her little girl's safety. He had all but physically attack her (them) and she won't under any circumstances allow that to happen.

Whatever it takes, she'll keep her family safe.

So the next time Caroline hinted that things were looking bad for her, and seeing the anxiety and the raw concern in Booth's eyes, she let him contact her father to elaborate a plan.

* * *

She wanted to do the right thing and stay and fight and serve justice. But never the phrase "Justice is blind" has been more accurate, to her assessment, even with the oddity that results from personalizing a power executed by the people. People make mistakes; people let themselves be misguided but impressions. People can be manipulated when appearances are deceiving. And as those people debated about her life, that same life and those of the ones she loves were being threatened.

She could be accused, prosecuted. But even if not, with Pelant free, she'd be in danger, her little one would also be.

She had to leave.

And the right thing would have been to just go, without strings that tied her to her past, alone and without obligations, without responsibilities. Do as their parents did, protecting her and her brother and just act as a shadow that sees without being seen, that watches from the distance. Christine should stay with Booth… She shouldn't be subjected to that kind of live, always looking over your shoulder, always missing your people, always fearing for your life. She should grow up happy and without burdens…

But she found herself incapable of leaving Christine behind. Booth hadn't even suggested it; he all but took for granted that both of them should run. Together. That'd be the only way to be protected.

And as the pain of the recollection of her parents' getaway subsided, and the grief and the fear (for the past and for the future) stop clouding her judgment, she realized that that unlucky day before Christmas, when her parents didn't come back was not the first time they'd escaped. Before that was when she had started to be Temperance and his brother Russ, and their parents the Brennans, not the Keenans anymore. And they'd been happy. For many years.

She finally had told Booth (with haunted but purposeful eyes), just in case they were being watched, that she would be taking Christine back to the park, and would be back for dinner. That's how they had decided to do it. Once and for all. So, she and Christine would leave, meet Max somewhere along the way and find a place, or at least get used to the new live they were forced to face, even if it was only temporary.

Then, Booth would find them.

She didn't want to do this without him. She needed him. But she knew it would be too dangerous. It would be more suspicious if the three of them just walked away.

He will meet them at the right time. He will find them wherever they are, no matter what, or how. He will.

* * *

She sobbed when he'd grazed his baby girl's forehead and with teary eyes himself kissed Brennan goodbye. She knew he could taste the salt of her tears on the kiss (she could taste them too), and the sorrow and the ache were so huge that his hands trembled when he pulled his women to his chest to, if only it were possible, provide them with the lingering safety of his embrace. She trembled too. Her could hear her heart pounding on her ears (the rush of blood traveling faster through her veins and arteries caused by the adrenaline). She'd inhaled deep before separating from him, to activate her olfactory memory, the one that creates more persistent, stronger memories. They had parted with sad smiles and longing glances and silent promises lost in the unreliability of the situation.

In the car, just few moments later, she had tried not to look back, simply drive forward, straight, following the lane that would take her to an uncertain future, for an uncertain time, without the beacon that had guided her to her place in the world. She'd looked back, though, because she was not able of conceiving a future where he was not with her. Not anymore. She needed to have as much as him as she could. One last glance. One last impression of him.

And now, here they are; she and her little girl, in the middle of nowhere under the auspices of his criminal father and far from home. Hiding from the danger.

Missing the man on their lives.

On the run.

* * *

_If you liked it, and feel like it, let me know. If you didn't like it... well, just be kind. :)_

_Now, we must wait for the SF! Almost there! _


End file.
